


mandatory

by thegiggleatafuneral



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comic Book Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, M/M, Pining Steve Rogers, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegiggleatafuneral/pseuds/thegiggleatafuneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like the old times at all, Steve thinks. Sitting on a grassy hill under the setting sun in the 21st century, he thinks about how everything has changed, even Bucky. It certainly wasn't how he pictured his reunion with Bucky to be.</p><p> </p><p>After SHIELD fell, Steve managed to find a deprogrammed Winter Soldier who's starting to remember. However, Bucky's dying, and only Steve's blood can save him. Their lives are tied together but their hearts are not anymore, with Bucky's former HYDRA handler coming into the picture.</p><p>Non-Civil War compliant</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The night has its secrets

**Author's Note:**

> basically, Steve pines after Bucky but Bucky is torn between the man he used to love before he was robbed of his humanity and the only man who loved him during his years with HYDRA.
> 
> follows the days Steve, Bucky and Rumlow spend together on a road trip while they each recover from their own personal traumas.
> 
> NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER

_Day 7_

 

It's not like the old times at all, Steve thinks. Sitting on a grassy hill under the setting sun in the 21st century, he thinks about how everything has changed, even Bucky.

It's dusk and the mismatched trio of them are resting at the side of the road. It had been Bucky's idea to watch the moon chase the sun across the sky and witness the stars find the strength to shine in the overwhelming sky. Steve can hear them behind him: Rumlow murmuring softly to Bucky, and probably stroking his hair as he does so. It makes him realise how much time he has spent with them to be able to predict their actions like this - a week on the road, 156 hours back to back with them.

it certainly wasn't how he pictured his reunion with Bucky to be: as a spectator, and a hindrance most of the time. Everything has changed. He's no longer Bucky's other half, but another lonely planet circling Bucky's orbit, and he doesn't think things can ever go back to the way they were before, not with the way Bucky is now.

So much has happened to him and as much as Rumlow and Steve convince Bucky otherwise, deep down, Steve knows that Bucky is damaged permanently. That will never stop him from doing everything he can to keep Bucky safe and healthy, and to try to make him happy whenever he cans.

That's part of the reason why Steve agreed to come along for this road trip thing (meant to be a sort-of holiday for Bucky), the other reason being the only one why Rumlow would let him come at all - Bucky needs Steve.

Literally, in this case. Bucky lost a lot of blood in his last fight against a hydra team sent to recapture him and Steve is his human blood bag for now. Back in Stark's facilities, Bucky's blood was found to contain certain traces of toxins. It was the final and most brutal way HYDRA tried to control and torture their asset, and it was meant to be a last resort in case they never got him back.

The toxins were meant to chemically react and kill him from the inside out, but with Stark's resources and the best surgeons in the world, they managed to get an antidote into Bucky's bloodstream in time.

For the month after that, however, Bucky needs to flush his old blood out bit by bit and Steve is the donor to replace the lost blood.

They're both modified humans so Steve is the most suitable donor; but while Steve regenerates as quickly as he gets injured, Bucky's different. He was modified to kill, not to repair, and whatever blood is drained from him will not be replenished as soon as Steve's does.

This is the reason why Steve is here. He tries not to think of it as the only reason Bucky lets him tag along, but at moments like this, under the canopy of purple skies and struggling stars, he feels like an intruder to Bucky's life.

The ball of pain in his gut which formed at the beginning of the trip has never quite went away, but he lives with. 70 years on, Steve would go to the ends of the world for Bucky, so putting himself on the sidelines for Bucky's happiness is nothing to him.

 

When the last of the purple has been swallowed by inky darkness and the stars have exploded into life, Steve takes a moment to glance back and feels his heart wrench.

Bucky's half-leaning into Rumlow's chest, their fingers laced together on Rumlow's lap and his eyes are closed, but Steve knows he's awake. His hair is short - he'd come up to Steve with a pair of scissors on the 3rd night of their trip and asked him to cut it the way it used to be (the first time he'd approached Steve alone since he found him) and with his face as peaceful as this, he looks like the Bucky before the war, before the fall, before he was stripped of everything.

Rumlow's gazing at the night sky and his eyes are black in the night. Steve can see how tired Rumlow is, when he lets himself relax whenever he's sure Bucky isn't looking.

Steve can't find it in himself to hate Rumlow at all, not even a single bit. Not when Rumlow does everything in his power to make Bucky happy, and always at his own expense. Rumlow is rough and sharp at all edges but with Bucky, and only with Bucky, he's uncharacteristically gentle and sweet. He loves hard liquor but on this trip, he's abstained from it completely in order to stay sober to give Bucky his complete attention and care.

He hardly sleeps at night (just like Steve) - he sleeps lightly, ready to wake up at the slightest disturbance when Bucky gets his usual nightmares. He knows every single of Bucky's needs and wants without Bucky voicing it out, and that's something which leaves Steve feeling hollow because he remembers clear as day a time when he was the one in Rumlow's place and he misses being the one for Bucky, so, so much.

Steve thinks about curling up with Bucky under this same sky 70 years ago in tents, in airbases, in fields, everywhere. He thinks about the charming, playful Bucky with the killer smile and confidence, and he thinks about Bucky now, crying at odd intervals when he suddenly recalls a bad memory. He thinks of how Bucky is so childlike now in the way his eyes go round and his smiles like he doesn't know how to when he remembers something good, like he's discovered a butterfly and is picking it up carefully.

Steve hurts. his heart aches and it feels like the stars are mocking him tonight. The pinpoints of light in the sky feel like accusatory spotlights: _you failed to save him, you failed him, he can't be yours anymore._

"Shall we make our way?" steve asks, voice coming out hoarser then he expected.

Rumlow wipes the tiredness of his face in a split second and looks at Steve. The look in Rumlow's sharp brown eyes is something that Steve never expected to see: understanding, pity, and a quiet sort of reverence. It makes Steve look away and get to his feet - he can accept Rumlow loving his Bucky right in front of him, but he doesn't want Rumlow to look at him like he knows how useless Steve is now.  Bucky and Rumlow get up too, hands still intertwined, and they get into the backseat while Steve takes the driver's seat.

They've planned where to stop for the night already - a backpacker's motel in a sleepy suburb nearby. Steve keeps the destination in mind and focuses on the road ahead, blocking the pain in his heart the whole way there.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It's dark in the backseat and Bucky feels warm and safe. He's always liked the dark, as long as he knows Brock is _right there_  with him. And Steve, too - he's always thought Steve radiated warmth, and he can't quite ever feel cold when Steve is around. In the dark, the knowledge that he can trust them with anything makes his heart swell and his head giddy.

There's enough light from passing cars and street lamps to see Brock's face. He feels lightheaded tonight, the tube attached to the vein in his arm having drained some blood an hour ago and even though Steve had already did the transfusion thing with him, he still feels woozy and soft.

Orr maybe he just likes having Brock take care of him. Bucky reaches out his flesh hand and places it on Brock's scarred cheek, which makes Brock turn to him. There's this overwhelming affection and love in Brock's eyes every single time he looks at Bucky and Bucky wants to spend the rest of his life looking into Brock's eyes like this.

Bucky knows he's smiling - he can feel his cheeks pulling up slightly. brock had told him it was good to smile, but not to force himself. Steve makes him smile a lot, he knows. With Brock, he sometimes doesn't realise he's smiling until Brock touches his face.

"You tired, sweetheart?" Brock asks, his voice a low rasp. Bucky shakes his head no, even though he is. He likes cuddling up with Brock and hanging on the edge from sleep, knowing that Brock will be right there when he next awakes.

Brock smiles too, tenderly covers Bucky's hand on his cheek with his own. "We can stay up late tonight then. do whatever you want." Brock says, and Bucky feels his face heat up.

He wants to be in bed with Brock, doing the thing people call sex. He remembers it from another time (blond hair, feeling of a ribcage under his fingers, charcoal stained fingers in his hair) but it feels different to him now. He doesn't fantasize about it during the day or get horny like normal people do. To him, sex is something intimate and a way of being in love. He likes the proximity and the feeling of Brock's skin covering every inch of his, likes the sensation of Brock being right inside him, craves the way Brock kisses him when they make love - like Bucky's the best thing in his life.

Bucky knows that Brock is aware of what he's thinking, because the intensity of his gaze turns up by notches and his smile fades slightly, and he can feel Brock's body heat up ever so slightly.

Brock leans in and kisses him, and it's gentle but passionate and Brock holds him close. he can feel the restrain in those arms when they caress his back gently, and he feels heat pool up in his groin. He slides his hands under Brock's shirt, caresses the warm skin he finds, traces his fingers across the raised scars and where they melt into each other. The Brock now doesn't look the way he used to - Bucky is starting to remember some of the numerous encounters he's had with Brock over his years in HYDRA, and he's piecing together the pattern in which Brock has aged. 

After the catastrophic incident which caused the fall of SHIELD and the apparent disintegration of HYDRA, Brock hadn't been the same. He'd been crushed under a burning building, the fact that he survived and is here now being a complete miracle. It hurts Bucky to think about the massive sacrifices Brock has made for him. 

He remembers Brock saying "I'll get you out one day" over the years, and he remembers the last time he saw Brock while in HYDRA facilities. 

"You'll be free soon" was what Brock said, and Bucky hadn't even remembered who Brock was then, but something about the words and the voice awoke something inside him. He didn't know what. So when the mission to kill the man on the bridge went to hell, and buildings came crashing, Bucky had stared into the fire and finally, finally understood all of it. Brock's plan - to free him. 

And in return, Brock had been literally scarred for life. His now-familiar face, devastatingly handsome to Bucky, was the kind that now made little children scream and adults whisper. It was a cruel thing to think, but the scarred, half-melted face of Brock was straight out of a horror movie. Except, to Bucky, Brock was still his favourite face in the world, other than Steve. 

He doesn't see the angry red scars zigzagging across Brock's face, or the way his left eye has been ripped downwards, or the way the twisted skin at the side of his face morphs into his deformed ear. He sees his Brock as he would look now, without these injuries - intense brown eyes, sharp jaw, double eyelids, perfect straight nose, thin lips. He can't understand why the rest of the world sees a monster instead of this beautiful, beautiful man. 

Who's right now smiling at him as Bucky breaks away from the kiss. The sudden heat in the backseat is nearly unbearable, the need to feel every inch of Brock's skin on his suffocating. 

Thankfully, Steve pulls over outside a building, which must be the motel they've planned to stay at. "Hey, you guys go in and settle down first. I'll just be buying some food." He smiles at Bucky, not the Steve Rogers smile of the '40s when he hadn't yet carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but a much more tired version of it. 

Bucky hadn't realised how Steve's eyes look so old, until now. No one misses the catch in Steve's voice or the pain in his smile, but they get out anyway and make their way to the shabby counter to get a room. Steve has already disappeared into the night, and Bucky tries not to stare into the inky blackness for too long. When Steve goes, he takes some of the warmth with him, and the world feels slightly scarier and a lot emptier.


	2. Light embraces the guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologise in advance for any grammatical errors - i don't have a beta.  
> comments and feedback are always appreciated, and much thanks to those who leave kudos x

_Day 3_

 

They'd been driving since before the day broke and the silence in the car, sacred and comforting at first, was becoming awkward and tense. The first few hours had been nothing short of beautiful and almost magical. Steve hadn't seen America in all its glory from the side window of a car in so long (he refuses to think about the years he'd spent frozen at the bottom of the sea).

The view from Tony's jets are always amazing, especially at night when the city lights form messy webs, thousands of different roads leading to millions of different homes. But it's different on the road, where he can see everything up close, like how the stalks of corn move in the wind and the exact shade of the boulders that stretch on for miles. 

Steve loves the wind in his air and the knowledge that he can jump right out of the moving car and just lie in the grass and feel the sun against his face, if he wanted. He doesn't, of course. Rumlow wants to get Nebraska by the evening, and there's also the tube attached to his wrist that holds him back. On the other end is Bucky, and right now his blood is taking a journey of their own, emigrating his body to feed into Bucky's veins, heart, everywhere. 

It moves slowly, and even as his blood is slowly transferred out of him, his red blood cells are regenerating and his body is repairing itself. Unlike Bucky's. 

As selfish as it is, Steve can't help but feel grateful for the fact that Bucky's body can't fight the chemically induced toxins circulating through his blood. He doesn't think he would get to spend so much time with Bucky, if Bucky didn't literally need him to survive. They might be meeting once a week for dinner or drinks, and occasionally bumping into each other at the Stark Tower, or maybe even go on missions together someday. 

Definitely not like this, connected by a plastic tube, sitting front to back in a beat up old Land Rover and driving cross-country across the USA. 

Even if Bucky doesn't remember what they once had, he will eventually - or at least that's what Steve constantly tells himself.

Right now, though, the Sun is almost at its full height in the sky and the wind tousling his hair is hotter, drier. No one's said a word for ages, and it hurts so much that he can't think of a single thing to say to the one person he'd never thought he'd run out of things to talk about. Never in his life, even after waking from the ice about 2 years ago, did Steve think he could ever feel uncomfortable in Bucky's presence. 

He's proven himself wrong. The silence is stifling and he misses Sam's easy jokes and bad freestyle raps, or Nat's teasing about him being a virgin or damn it, even Tony's rapidfire rattling and nonsensical ramblings. As much as he wants to blame Rumlow's presence for being the elephant in the car, Steve knows that's not all that is to it.

The combined guilt, mental and emotional trauma, anxiety and the weight of wasted years has built shells around all three men in the car, and three days on the road isn't much to break away what they've been through. 

"Steve?" Bucky breaks the silence at last. "Think the transfusion is about done." He's looking at the blood collecting device attached to his other arm, the one that's not linked to Steve's. His body is done flushing toxin-containing blood to the designated hourly level and a button on the device is glowing green. Time to remove all these tubes. 

"Yeah, okay. I'd almost forgotten about it." Steve smiles apologetically, and carefully removes the tube from his own arm. He heals so fast, the wound from where the metal entered his skin not even forming the tiniest mark. Bucky undoes his own end too, and Rumlow slows down the car considerably to make sure Bucky doesn't mess up and injure himself or anything. 

"I'm fine, Brock, just drive. I've done this a few times already," Bucky says, even though Steve can hear the smile in his voice. Rumlow's worry is one that Steve shares. After years in HYDRA relying on agents to take care of him, Bucky seems to have no idea how to care for himself much of the time. The first time he'd detached the transfusion tube, he had tugged it so roughly out of his arm that the wound had been torn open and hadn't even blinked or realised anything was wrong. Since then, both Steve and Rumlow kept a close eye on him all the time. 

"Okay, sweetheart," Rumlow says, voice rough but tone gentle as always. He accelerates the car but Steve can tell he's got one eye still on Bucky. It's almost absurd how loving Rumlow can be. Rumlow, who'd been ready and willing to sentence millions of innocent citizens to death, who'd lied to Steve and acted like a friend while all the time he was part of the organization that had been holding  _his_ Bucky alive, who'd stood by and watched for years as HYDRA repeatedly brainwashed and tortured Bucky. Who also claimed to love Bucky. 

Steve knew Rumlow wasn't lying, for once. But every cell in his body abhorred being in the presence of a man whose ideals and values were the complete opposite of his own. And for more selfish reasons, Steve couldn't help but feel immensely jealous of the bond Rumlow and Bucky shared, which he knew was much deeper than they let on. He didn't understand it, hated it even, but never once did he regret coming along for this trip. 

He got to see Bucky alive and well, got to see him smile and hear his laugh, got to relearn the lines on his face and rememorize the colour of his eyes. Physically, the man he'd loved for as long as he remembered hadn't changed much. Bucky was still the most beautiful person he'd ever laid his eyes on, and not even the most dazzling sights in the world could ever compare. 

"Steve?" Bucky's voice cuts through this thoughts again. 

"What's up, Buck?" Steve asks, not even realising how fast the smile found its way to his face.

Bucky turns back and his devastating blue eyes cling onto Steve's own. "What's that song we used to dance to? You know, in the apartment, after we sent the dames home and all that." 

Steve laughs. "Lullaby of Broadway. By The Andrews Sisters. I hated that song but you loved it." 

Bucky smiles. "Hey, do you think you could play it right now? Stark says you can find music on that tube website. I can't remember what it's called." His brows furrow together as he tries to recall. 

"Youtube, honey," Rumlow says. "Here, use my phone," he passes Bucky his phone with the hand that isn't on the steering wheel before Steve can even think to take his phone out of his pocket.

Bucky squints at the device, taps uncertainly at it. It makes Steve smile, because that was him about 2 years ago when he'd just woken up and was learning how to navigate the new world. Bucky learns fast though, and a few minutes later the car is filled with the distinct, trumpet-backed music of Steve's youth. 

When Bucky closes his eyes, probably reliving some memories in his head, so does Steve. He thinks of their cramped but cosy apartment in Brooklyn and how they'd drunkenly danced on several occasions after spending a night with some women Steve couldn't care less about. If he concentrates hard enough, he can almost hear the background sounds of his neighbours' shuffling around in the next room, can almost recall the exact sensation of Bucky's shoulder under his chin. 

No one comments on how Bucky plays the song on loop twice.

 

Although they'd agreed to take turns, Rumlow had ended up spending the entire day at the steering wheel after Steve and Bucky got overexcited from Youtube and were frantically recalling the songs of their youth and trying to remember the exact titles. So Rumlow had driven them to some roadside fast food joint, and then continued driving the rest of the way to their motel in Nebraska. All the way, Steve and Bucky giggled like kids as they sang along to some of the songs, with Steve remembering a lot more of the lyrics than Bucky did. 

Even though Bucky had had his memory erased dozens of times over the years, he strangely still knew certain lines from some songs, and it made Steve glow inside to know that a part of their time together still stayed with Bucky, unlost despite the numerous static shocks and trauma. 

By the time they reached Nebraska, the sky was a canvas of dripping golden, salmon pink and deepening blue. They'd discovered Simon and Garfunkel and had fallen back into silence in favour of watching the colours mix together in the sky. The music left Bucky drowsy and Steve daydreaming, and it wasn't until Brock stopped the car did Steve realise they'd reached. 

"Rise and shine, sweetheart, we're here," Rumlow turns off his engine and winds the windows up, leaning over to kiss Bucky for the first time in hours. Bucky hums and pulls Rumlow nearer, Steve deciding to make his exit from the car then. 

The evening air is cool and liberating, and the motel is in a rather deserted part of the town, with few buildings spaced far apart. He misses the open road instantly, but he's also aching to lie down a soft bed (repercussions of living too long in Tony's luxurious tower). Looking at the vast expanse of sky and land around him, he still feels a little bit surreal about this whole trip, but when he closes his eyes and opens them again, the car is still there and Bucky is coming out of it now. 

Even after 3 days, the sight of Bucky still makes his heart leap and do funny things in his chest. All of a sudden he's a 16 year old kid from Brooklyn again, heart fluttering like a caged butterfly just from the way Bucky walks, or tilts his head when Rumlow says something to him. He's still slightly breathless when he sees Bucky smile. After all the years, Steve still loves Bucky so much he can't quite wrap his head around it or he'll explode. 

Rumlow exits and locks the car and the three of them make their way to the lobby. "Rogers, you get the keys. I'll wait with Bucky at the side." Rumlow stuffs some cash notes into Steve's hand and pulls a cap over his head. Steve blinks, then remembers. The scars. Right. 

Rumlow's face had been burnt and disfigured severely after the building had collapsed on him back in Washington, leaving him with horrific scars that got him many stares and looks of fear in the streets. For a man who believes in order through pain, Steve doubts Rumlow cares much about the judgment of others, but Rumlow prefers to stay out of the way of people now, instead staying in the shadows most of the time. 

Steve nods curtly and goes to pay for the room. The past two nights, they'd slept in triples - Bucky refused to be separated from Rumlow but Rumlow wanted Steve near too, in case any medical emergency happened. As awkward as it was for three grown men to sleep in one giant bed together, it was becoming the norm for them. 

"A room for three, please," Steve says, ignoring the strange look on the receptionist's face as she took in Steve and Rumlow and Bucky standing by the side, near the elevator.

"Sure," she says. "You guys family or friends?" Her tone is curious. 

"Uh, friends," Steve says, shifting from foot to foot. Luckily, the woman says nothing else and passes him a key after he hands her the cash. He quickly rejoins Bucky and Rumlow and they make their way up in the elevator in silence. Steve tries to ignore the coil of tension in his gut, but it's near impossible. The last time he'd been in an elevator with Rumlow, he had to waste a few minutes trying to knock down a lift full of mercenaries stupid enough to think they could take him down. It wasn't the fight that worried Steve, but his lingering distrust of Rumlow. 

He doesn't look at Rumlow, but his eyes catch sight of Bucky and Rumlow's intertwined hands. They rarely show signs of physical affection, especially in public, but over the past 2 days Steve has watched them get more comfortable with each other. And it hurts, of course. These days, every thing Bucky does seems to bring him in pain, as much as Bucky is still the best thing in his life and the only thing he cares about.

Rumlow crashes early that night, shortly after dinner when they're all watching the news while sitting in a row on the bed. 

Bucky's still curled up on Rumlow's chest, eyes taking in the TV program and not moving an inch. Steve's getting used to how Bucky's innate assassin nature which he can't quite seem to shed, despite losing most of the Winter Soldier's programming. The muscle memory and behaviour patterns remain, however, and Bucky is often silent and unmoving, or not making a sound when he does move. 

It broke Steve's heart at first, the physical manifestation of how HYDRA had made his best friend who used to burst with life and was so loud all the time into this silent weapon who seemed detached from life most of the time. Bucky's getting better though, and he pushes his hair back from time to time when it falls into his face.

Steve watches the TV, enjoying the feeling of the bed under him and the peaceful sounds of the air condition whirring and the soft sound of the TV in the background. The light is a warm shade of gold, and it's making him sleepy. 

 

He doesn't realise he's fallen asleep until Bucky's shaking him. 

"Steve. Stevie, wake up." Steve opens his eyes with a jolt, chastising himself for falling asleep before making sure Bucky was safely asleep too. 

"Buck," he says groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What time is it?" 

"Midnight, I think." Bucky looks wide awake, he clearly hasn't slept yet. Steve notes that the TV is still on and he'd slept through it. Then he realises with sudden horror that there's something glinting in Bucky's hands. Metal. He fights the wave of panic before it seizes him and compels him to snatch it from Bucky. 

"Bucky, what're you doing?" Steve asks, trying to sound as calm as he can. This could end badly, or he could keep it under control without waking Rumlow if he navigates through this carefully and disarms Bucky before he descends too deep into Winter Soldier mode. Though, he hasn't encountered any of that so far and it's his first time dealing with a potential scenario where Bucky doesn't know him and has no control over his actions. It's enough to make Steve's heart beat faster. 

Then Bucky breaks out into a grin brighter than a midday sun. "Can you cut my hair for me, Steve? The way you used to? I just remembered. There was this program about a man getting his hair cut, and I remember how you used to do it for me. Right?" He tilts his head to the side, questioning. Sometimes Bucky's memories aren't really events that happened, but dreams, and it's always confusing and heartbreaking to sort through his thoughts. 

Luckily, this one is a real memory. "Yeah," Steve says, the relief washing over him instantly. "Sure thing, Buck. C'mon, we'll do it in the bathroom." He's so, so glad he doesn't have to deal with an assassin right now. 

Cutting Bucky's hair is as easy as he remembers. His hair is longer than Steve ever remembered and not as soft (no doubt HYDRA didn't invest in quality shampoos) but it's still Bucky's hair and touching it is still like running his fingers through silk. Steve drapes a towel around Bucky's shoulders and lays another on the floor, then sets to work. Before the serum, he'd often be teased for doing girly things like drawing or gardening, but he was always grateful he could put his hands to good use. 

20 minutes later, he's got Bucky's hair short again, almost the way it used to look. He runs a bath for Bucky and clears up the mess, heading back to the room. When Bucky emerges a while later, freshly showered, Steve feels like a freight car just barreled its way into his heart for the way Bucky looks. With his hair the way it used to be, it almost feels like he's bumping into Bucky at one of their makeshift campsites during the war. Or as if Bucky had never fallen off the train, and the next day back at base he'd stepped out of the shower looking just like this. 

Steve feels smaller than he ever remembered feeling.

"How do I look?" Bucky's smiling, not the wide, careless smile before the war or the strained, forceful smiles during the war. These days, he smiles like he's just learnt how to, with one side of his mouth first and then the other, slowly, and it always looks like he's ready to drop the expression any moment.

"Dashing as hell. Bet you could knock an entire room to their feet, like you used to," Steve jokes. He means every word. Bucky smiles wider. 

"Nah, Steve, you're the one who makes people weak at their knees now." His eyes are shining in the light. There's a long moment where neither of them say anything, and they just stand face to face, smiling stupidly at each other. They're not the Brooklyn boys anymore - the Steve and Bucky of the past would be hugging by now. Or sassing each other. Not smiling, like acquaintances being polite to each other. But there's still something magical about this moment, so Steve clings to it and he imagines Bucky is too. 

"I wonder what Rumlow will think of it," Steve says, for lack of anything better to say. 

Bucky's eyes move over to the man lying on his side, and his eyes grow inexplicably found. He shrugs, and lies himself down beside Rumlow, breaking the moment of whatever it was Steve and Bucky were sharing. Probably not worth holding onto, because it's clear as day Bucky loves his former handler now. 

Steve refuses to process that because he fears it might hurt too much to carry on with this road trip, just keeps the knowledge at bay, letting the pain lap like small waves over his feet but never quite washing over him. He's saved the world twice but he's still a coward when it comes to facing his feelings. Especially when Bucky is involved.


	3. No rest for the wicked and those who have loved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm supposed to be studying for my exams........................................ no regrets.

_Day 8_

 

 

The first traces of morning sunlight are filtering through the flimsy curtains. Rumlow can see them from beneath his closed eyelids. The last month had been the most chaotic and painful in his life, and he'd emerged feeling ten years older and for strange and unknown reasons, a hell lot more sensitive to everything around him. Like the air - he can almost feel the blossoming warmth the rising sun is bringing to the cold dawn air.

And light, of course. He sees it everywhere now. Even in the dark, even when he's asleep. It's like he's spent his whole life living in a shadow, and now that he's free from HYDRA, the blindfolds have been taken off his eyes and he's seeing the world like he never has.

Rumlow likes to think that it's the man in his arms right now who makes his life so impossibly bright these days. Even with his eyes closed, he feels warmth creeping along the pores of his skin, and in a place he never thought he would ever feel it: right in his chest. HYDRA's asset, the Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes - the only person Rumlow has ever loved and will ever love - he's the undying bonfire in the endless night that is Rumlow's life.

And he makes Rumlow feel helpless in a way he's never felt before. Not one HYDRA leader or superior has ever made him want to submit completely. But for Bucky Barnes, Rumlow thinks he would do anything. He would live for Bucky, even after he's been literally burned alive. He has lived a double life for the man he loves so intensely. He's played a role in the disintegration of the organization he's spent more than half his life working for, just so his Bucky could be free. 

His Bucky. Who has every right to hate Rumlow, for the fact that he's HYDRA, for all the years he stood by and never did anything to save Bucky, who grew older and older while Bucky was a frozen weapon. Bucky's love is a gift that Rumlow doesn't think he'll ever deserve, yet he'll hold it to his death. Every day he spends with Bucky is a blessing that bastards like him should never live long enough to enjoy, but it doesn't mean he won't hold Bucky any less tightly in his arms. 

Rumlow finally opens his eyes. He's welcomed as usual by the painful stretching of his mangled skin. Every movement still hurts and sobriety only serves to amplify everything. But the light is so brilliant and so worth it. Even more beautiful is the sight of Bucky curled up in his arms. He can still cut a threatening figure when the need comes but when he's asleep like this, he feels impossibly small and fragile in Rumlow's arms. And with his hair short now, he looks years younger than Rumlow ever remembered. It makes Rumlow's heart ache for all the lost years of Bucky's life.

"You know what's on the itinerary for today, right?" The captain breaks the silence.

Steve Rogers - all brisk and business whenever he talks to Rumlow, an attitude that is reciprocated. He feels the reluctance every time Rogers talks to him. Neither does he miss the pained look in the man's eyes when he looks at his oldest friend in the world and his sweetheart from decades ago. It would be impossible to. But it makes life just that bit harder somehow. Order comes through pain, that's what he'd been trained to believe for most of his life, but Rumlow's so sick of pain. His own, Bucky's, even Rogers'. Even homeless people sleeping on the streets.

He looks up at Rogers, the annoyance tearing at his skin and sending bright sparks of pain through his face. "I'm disfigured, not amnesiac. Besides, aren't you the one who's 50 years older than me?" 

Rogers only smiles. "You know, you should accept Tony's offer about the face treatment. It'll make going out in public a lot easier, especially since Buck seems really into trying out all the tourist hotspots." His eyes soften by a ridiculous amount when the conversation drifts to Bucky. 

The old Rumlow would be disgusted and vexed. All Rumlow can feel now is mutual understanding. 

"Huh. Yeah, feels kinda like being a parent to a lil kid. Disneyland, zoo. Island getaways. What else is in the bucketlist?" 

"Bungee jumping," says Steve with a grin. "Get your face fixed, seriously. Imagine if your entire skin just dropped away after you jumped." 

Rumlow rolls his eyes, and tries not to feel too amazed or incredulous at the situation. Weekday morning, lying in a soft bed in a hotel room in Orlando, the love of his life in his arms, and Steve Rogers fucking sassing him. "I'll still be handsomer than you," he retorts. 

Against his chest, Bucky comes to life with a body-shaking laugh. "Steve, really?" he asks, and pulls himself up to look at Steve. "Punks never stop being punks, do they." And there it is, the miles-long stare they exchange, stupid half-smiles on their faces and a simmering intensity of decades of loss and stolen love. This part does get to Rumlow, although he'll never say it.

He chooses that moment to head to the toilet to freshen up. Spare them some privacy, like Rogers always does for him and Bucky, anyway. Christ, he thinks, he's getting infected. 

 

They try to be as inconspicuous as they can. Sunglasses, baseball caps, plain tees and old jeans. Bucky looks like a model for whatever brand of clothes he's wearing. So does Steve, although Rumlow won't admit it. And Rumlow - all he can do is try not to look too homicidal. Bucky kisses him on both cheeks anyway. "You're so perfect," he whispers against Rumlow's lips, just before they leave the room.

Rumlow would let himself be crushed under burning buildings a hundred more times for this. 

Walt Disney World is hot like a goddamn desert, the sky a strikingly brilliant blue void of a single cloud for miles. There's occasional whispers of a stiff breeze here and there, but those are always swallowed up by the crowd. Bucky eats 3 ice-creams at a go, swallowing each down in about 20 seconds before they start dripping everywhere. Rogers empties an entire 50oz bottle at a go. Rumlow is actually seriously worried that his blasted skin will start peeling. He pulls the cap over his eyes and hides in a laughing Bucky's shadow. 

The day is loud, sweaty and exploding with colour and accelerating heartbeats and the aftertaste of too-sweet cotton candy, popcorn and soda. It's the kind of day the man Brock Rumlow used to be would never have lived. He's happy to live such a day, because it's the most excited he's seen Bucky, ever. 

"Steve, I miss Coney Island so much. I remember it more now," Bucky says, when they're all resting at a private deck after messing around in one of the water parks for what feels like hours. "I think I remember exactly how it feels to be that Bucky. In that moment. You know what I mean?" 

"You'll always be the same Bucky to me," Steve says, so softly Rumlow almost can't catch the syllabuses. "I know what you mean. No fancy theme park in this world will ever beat Coney." 

The nostalgia hits even Rumlow, and he wishes for a moment he could see the '40s theme park through their eyes. How innocent and rosy their worlds must have been back then. 

"I wish you could've lived it, too," Bucky turns back to Rumlow. He never forgets Rumlow; no matter how deeply he's relieving old memories or having a moment with Rogers, he always, always comes back to Rumlow. "Everything felt different, somehow. More exciting. Maybe because we were poor, and we hardly got to enjoy such treats."

"Mm," Rumlow replies, too focused on the smile on Bucky's face to say anything else. Bucky smiles wider. 

 

Steve gets recognised, in the end. He's the leader of the Avengers and a national icon, probably in history textbooks. There's comics about him, video games and tee-shirts and all kinds of shit. So when the girl with yellow pigtails and a red Captain America shirt whispers, "Are you Captain America?" as they're queuing for the 4th round of ice-cream, it isn't surprising at all. 

It's a good thing Steve is as popular and iconic as he is. Rumlow and Bucky are able to drift away easily, unnoticed, while Steve poses for a photo with the kid. And then 3 others. And then a group shot, with the ice-cream man and a bunch of customers nearby. And then, best of all, a professional shot by the a cameraman working at the Park, in front of an attraction, with about a hundred people. 

The signing of autographs takes at least an hour. Bucky's excitement fizzles out, and he and Rumlow wait back in the rented car for Steve. They drive to a secluded spot under trees, blast the air con and end up having sex in the backseat for at least half an hour. 

There's still time to drive back to the park compound to pick Steve up. 


End file.
